Innocently Blue
by Wrendragongirl
Summary: The boy hurt. There was no comfort in this hard, cruel place. Bruce had adopted him, but he was never there when it counted. Not until now.
1. Chapter 1

Richard. That was his name. The little boy was so carelessly commented on by Bruce's date. The callous blonde was pretty, if you only looked at her. She had no sympathy, though, for the little boy whose parents had died in front of him.

The boy had been traumatized, of course, but was 'offered condolences' and then turned into another item for reporters to interview. He was only six, for heavens sake!

Bruce remembered the hurt he had felt at eight, even with all his resources and Alfred to help. Six would be way worse, especially in an orphanage.

Bruce had been spending a 'pleasant' night out with his date, some volleyball player, even though he had just met her. The party wasn't all that entertaining and, when the boy in question came up, Bruce excused himself before he punched a hole in the wall, although he did put a rather large dent in the side of his car.

The anger that usually would have been released that night was bottled up, all because a certain butler decided it would be a good idea for batman to take a night off. Bruce didn't agree. Having all that anger bottled up inside didn't exactly benefit ones' health.

He drove home, hands tightly gripping the steering wheel to the point of crumbling it like an aluminum can. Most billionaires had chauffeurs to drive them home, but Alfred had been cooking something and Bruce had wanted to drive himself.

The man, son of Thomas and Martha Wayne, had a depressed childhood and was really not a playboy at all. He was nicer, for one, than any other of Gotham's socialites, and judged people by actions not words. He rarely missed anything, and realized things most other people wouldn't have even thought about. For example, he knew the Riddler had once been a man named Edward Nigma, an employee of Wayne industries, and had gone slightly insane when his boss fired him for misuse of equipment. He also knew the secret identity of the Batman, which happened to be himself.

Pretty much no one else in Gotham knew all the super criminals as well as Bruce, not like he talked to them on a regular basis, or dealed drugs or something. No, Bruce Wayne wasn't a criminal, at least in his mind, although he did break the law on a regular basis. It helped people, though. He made sure the criminals were kept at bay, and fought against them when necessary. He was the Batman.

So, when his date carelessly brought up the death of Richard Grayson's parents, he excused himself from the party and headed home. He had been watching as they fell from the trapeze at the circus, and felt sick to his stomach, and guilty. He hadn't been able to save them, the way he had sworn to do. Now, an innocent boy was left alone and lost and hurt. A mirror image of himself.

The man sighed, pulling the car into the garage and opening a dark blue door. He hoped the choice he had decided to make was right. The little boy didn't deserved to be in an orphanage, so Bruce wasn't going to let him stay for long.


	2. Chapter 2

Far from the lavish mansion of Gotham's richest bachelor, a young boy cried, huddled underneath a small uncomfortable bed. The police said that this was his temporary home. They said he'd be cared for. He might even be adopted!

But the six-year old wasn't that dumb. He was actually extraordinarily talented. He could hear the sneering sarcasm in the voice of that particular officer. No one believed that the boy would survive long enough to be adopted. It was Gotham, after all.

He screamed silently, tears pooling on the floor where he was curled. 'Mamma. Daddy.' He whispered in a language other than English. The boy wanted them. All the adults here were mean, and spoke to him like he was a dumb animal. He understood English perfectly fine, but wouldn't speak until someone had the courtesy to stop treating him like a freak.

The battered off-white door squeaked violently, suddenly open, revealing an old mean looking woman. She had her hand curled painfully around another little boy's wrist, yellow talons digging into the skin.

He was shoved against the wall and slapped across the cheek, and the door closed as suddenly as it opened.

"Bobby…?" asked child under the bed, water drying on his face.

"Richard, she hurt me. Don't get on her bad side. Stay away from me!" The other boy, Bobby, warned, sobbing louder. This only caused Richard to come out and comfort him, holding the boy's injured wrist. He ignored his own sadness, for a minute or two, to reassure his friend.

"It'll be Ok,"He promised. "This is just like a fairy tale. We'll be fine. Someone will come save us." Their naive childish eyes blinked in the darkness, filled with tears.

In the dark of night, the young boys shared what remained of a slight hope to find a family, their family. A hope for which they have nothing left to loose.


	3. Chapter 3

Bruce tapped the cheap pen lightly against the desk as the old woman looked at him. "Adopt him, sir?" She finally said. "Well, I'll have to get the papers and…" he tuned out of the lady's rambling and looked out the grimy windowpane to the dirt yard, where children were playing or getting bullied by others.

The room was small, with rough floors. Anyone who walked barefoot got wicked splinters. The walls were almost gray they were so dirty, and the desk had a stack of dusty papers on them that looked like they had never actually been touched. Not in this lifetime, anyways.

"Mr. Wayne, are you sure you want to adopt this child? He will-" Quickly tiring of the woman's pointless rambling, Bruce cut her off. "I have had plenty of instances in which I could have decided NOT to adopt this child. I am pretty sure that my mind is made up." He glares at her and she hands over the papers, pouting slightly. She obviously didn't want him adopting the young child, even though he would take better care of him than the orphanage.

Bruce signed the papers with the pen he had been tapping, and paperclipped them neatly before handing them back over. The lady fussed for a while, before standing up from the hard-backed chair and pushing it in.

They left the room, walking past tightly closed doors with rusty hinges. The hallway itself wasn't much different from the little room, except it had no windows. At the end of the hallway, a door was hanging open. The entrance was narrow, and inside two little boys played happily. They looked up nervously at the sound of footsteps.

"Richard, this is Bruce Wayne. He's here to adopt you," said the woman, slowly but slurred. Her fake smile wasn't fooling anyone, and it was clear she hated the boy. One of them nodded, but didn't look too thrilled. The others gaze traveled restlessly around the room.

Completely ignoring the lady, Bruce walked up to the little boy who had nodded. He spoke at a normal pace, making sure to enunciate clearly Instead of speaking slowly. "Hi, Richard, my name is Bruce Wayne. I'm here to adopt you, if you want to come." The little boy glanced hesitantly at his friend, who was paying attention now. He smiled encouragingly, and Richards eyes traveled back to the man in front of him.

Slowly, he nodded affirmative.


	4. Chapter 4

Storm clouds lurked on the horizon, waiting to break. The humidity was unbearable, and even Alfred, who was usually very tolerant of any weather, was complaining. Richard, or Dick as he preferred to be called, had abandoned playing to sleep in a chair in the coldest room in the house, snoring away in front of the tv.

Bruce had absolutely no idea what to do with the child. He had not been around them that much, so he turned to Alfred, who really wasn't any help whatsoever. His reply, when asked, was 'be friendly, and figure it out for yourself. You're the worlds greatest detective, for heaven sake!'

So, the awkwardness between adoptive father and boy continued, with Bruce avoiding the child whenever possible. Thus, the most obvious excuse arose:' I'm working.' Which, in fact, was a legit excuse, but not a very good one. Mostly, Alfred covered for the man, who began puzzling out something different, but as Batman.

It was rather clear that the parents of Richard Grayson had been murdered. The bolts were missing to the wires of the trapeze, and they were specially checked before the performance. The Flying Graysons, as they were known, were all over the news, so three reasons arose for the killing: personal, money extortion, or to make a statement. The last two were more likely, mostly because the circus hasn't been to Gotham for several years now. But one must not make hasty deductions.

So because of the addition to the family, Batman spent more time out of the house than in. He supposed he wasn't being a very good father. But, he reasoned, looking for the murderer was just as important... Or he needed an excuse to get out of the mansion.

Sitting on the roof of a building, cape billowing out dramatically behind him, Batman looked down on the city below him. It was beautiful just before the sun set, washed in a seductive golden light that hid the dangers within. Dark pillar-like thunderheads on the horizon lit up like fire, reds and pinks and oranges filling the sky like a painters canvas. Hints of purple arose, stunning anyone who happened to look up and see the stars just beginning to appear. Moments like this were rare, few and far between. Almost no one ever got to look at the sky in all its glory because they didn't have time to glance upwards. Saddening.

Behind him, someone cleared their throat slightly, trying desperately not to be rude. After all, the Bat was one of the most dangerous people in Gotham.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" Commissioner Gordon, a long time friend of Bruce Wayne and a supporter of the Batman, asked bluntly. Batman slowly turned to face him.

"I may not be available as much these next few months. Don't be surprised if you don't see as much of me, commissioner." He stated, in a deep, growling baritone voice. It was filled with mystery and secretiveness.

The commissioner nodded, red hair blowing to the side in the breeze. "By the way, on the Grayson's case, we have some evidence that suggests crime boss Tony Zucco was responsible. He-" the redhead was cut off by a sharp, sudden beeping sound, causing both men to wince.

Batman took a flat phone-looking device from his belt, sliding his finger along the surface and activating it. He typed in what appeared to be a password, then spoke into it. "What?" He growled, and commissioner Gordon felt sympathy for whoever was on the other end. Batman in a bad mood wasn't a good thing.

Surprisingly, after about three seconds, the Bats eyes widened slightly under his mask, barely visible to the commissioner. "I'll be there as soon as possible." Batman ended the conversation, facing Gordon again. "Send me the file. I have to go." He turned and faced the edge of the roof, about to step off and shoot a grappling gun at another building.

"Wait... Does this have something to do with earlier?" The commissioner called to the batmans back, knowing he probably wouldn't get a reply. To his surprise, he did.

"Yes. It does. And for the record, my feelings won over logic." With that, the batman swung away, the only sound left was the swish of his cape. James Gordon looked perplexed at the Bats words. Feelings over logic? What on earth was he referring to?

Pushing all thoughts of the new puzzle aside, he shrugged. It wasn't any of his business. The only he even knew the Batman was because he was commissioner. It wasn't anything that applied to him.


	5. Chapter 5

Dick's wide eyes were clearly seeing something other than his room. Harsh sobs racked the boys throat, tearing their way out and leaving him breathless, but he couldn't stop crying. The nightmare was still fresh in his mind, and there was no one there to get it out.

He watched his parents fall again, their lips mouthing his name. A single glance showed they knew what would happen. They had accepted their own deaths milliseconds before they happened, and a single glance to their son showed pride, love, sadness, and an unspoken message that never made it past the adults' tongues.

Suspended for what seemed like hours, his parents floated through the air as he reached his hand towards them, but time sped up again. They didn't have the time to grab it, and the boy felt sick as the bodies of Mary and John Grayson crunched against the ground.

But in the dream, all he could think about was the look on their faces. It was disappointment. They hated him for letting them die, and when he climbed down from his perch and knelt by their side, they moved. They yelled at him for not saving them, and not dying by their sides, and hit him with cold, dead hands. It was all his fault. So the boy did the only thing he could still do. He cried and screamed, with soul consuming guilt eating at his heart. All his fault. All his fault.


	6. Chapter 6

Bruce rushed upstairs, pausing for a couple seconds to take his cape and cowl off. Changing would take too long. He could hear the sobbing from the batcave, and the thought that his little boy was scared enough to make that much noise frightened him.

Thunder crashed outside, the storm finally releasing its fury over Gotham. Lightning bolts flashed through the sky, lighting everything up electric blue. The lights, only on in a few rooms, made the hallways seem dark and creepy, suits of armour and paintings eerily glowing in the brief periods in which the electricity flickered.

Bruce entered Dick's room, where Alfred was attempting to comfort the crying boy. He was curled up in a ball on the maroon comforter, head in his hands. Alfred looked up when Bruce entered the room, looking relieved because it meant he could leave.

Dick glanced up at the man, who hugged him close to his chest. The boy quieted, wrapping his short arms around his adoptive father.

In a soft voice, ragged with grief, Dick whispered, "...I miss them...so, so much. Why? Its not fair!" Bruce held his son closer.

"I know," he replied, remembering what the pain felt like. "I know."

They sat there, so when Alfred came with hot cocoa, they were both curled up on his bed, Bruce still comforting the young boy, whose screams and cries had changed to gentle sobbing. The british butler could tell master Bruce would be around for the boy more often.


	7. Chapter 7

Bruce sat at the smooth wooden desk in his office at Wayne industries, typing away at an expensive looking computer. The windows let in a flood of sunlight, making the sparsely furnished room light and airy.

In one corner of the room, however, the room was no longer empty. Legos littered the floor, stuck together in nonsensical shapes. A plastic dinosaur wrecked everything, controlled by the little boy holding it.

"Vroom!" Dick exclaimed, having a lego car come at the T-rex and a small lego batman jumped out, wielding a mini batarang. Bruce smiled at the child's play, wishing for a moment to join his son. That thought was soon ejected, though. He had work to do.

He continued typing, reviewing stuff from people. The most boring work ever, in his opinion. He hated paperwork.

"Daddy, are you done now?" Dick asked, wandering over carrying his T-rex. Bruce sighed and gave up on his work. He'd do it later.

"Sure, why not. Why don't we go get ice cream?" He suggested to the short boy. He knew that in a couple minutes Dick would go crazy from sitting in the office. Having an acrobat for a son was hectic, to say the nodded and smiled, smirking in the cute but creepy little boy way of his, before attempting to clean up the mess he made in the corner.

Bruce grabbed his flash drive from the computer and tucked it into the pocket of his khaki pants, before helping Dick put the building bricks back into a bin.

Once everything was cleaned up, the little boy was picked up by his father and they left the office, but not before grabbing his T-rex.

Dick was a good kid, if a little rambunctious sometimes. If you gave him candy then he would start to bounce off the walls.  
The boy was still sadder than a child was supposed to be, but once Bruce started to be a little more involved in his life it got better. He actually started having fun. Dick started calling his adoptive father daddy, which made Bruce's heart melt. It was the first time since the death of his parents that he had actually felt happy.

It was also the first time he had been convinced to eat ice cream.

Dick made a mess of it all over his face, the pink, blue, yellow, orange, green, and purple flavor of 'rainbow' smeared everywhere except his hair. Smiling, Bruce began trying to wipe his face clean with a brown napkin as the little boy squirmed away, looking at his father with innocently blue eyes.

"Stop it! That tickles!" Dick giggled as he tried to escape.

"Dick, hold still!" Bruce sighed in frustration, admitting defeat and continuing to eat his mint chocolate chip. The ice cream parlor was almost completely deserted, leaving the pair to eat in peace. There was less of a chance for someone Bruce knew to interrupt their snack.

When they were done, Bruce somehow managed to wipe Dick's face off without too much fuss, also while agreeing to get him some cotton candy at the candy shop. There was no resisting the power of cuteness.

Unfortunately, by dinnertime, the child was no longer hungry and he was also on a sugar high. Alfred wasn't very happy about that, but the only thing he could do was make Dick eat his creamed spinach. Surprisingly, it wasn't very hard. The Wayne butler made excellent creamed spinach.

Right before Dick went to bed, a familiar light in the sky shone bright. The child spotted it through the window. "Bruce, there's the light in the sky again," the anxious child said. "Are you gonna disappear again?"

Bruce reeled in shock. Already Dick had realised he only disappeared to 'work' when the light shown in the sky. How long before he connected Batman to his adopted father?

"Yeah, 'fraid so, kid. You can wait for me if you want." Bruce figured it'd be better just to tell the kid now rather than wait for him to find out on his own. That way, he'd make sure Dick didn't try to use anything in the cave.

"YESESESESESESESESESESES!...please!" Bruce laughed at the child's expression, his deep blue eyes as wide as dinnerplates. It was impossible to refuse him.

"Alright, brush your teeth and put on your pjs," He chucked, already looking for his costume. The gray uniform had to be around somewhere…


	8. Chapter 8

Dick sat impatiently in the rotational chair, feet skimming the ground as he spun around in circles. Although he was tired, he wanted to stay awake until Bruce got back. The boy enjoyed hearing the tales of the mysteries Batman solved, especially right before bedtime. They were exciting, coming straight from the horses mouth. He had even managed to convince Bruce to give him an earpiece so he could help from the cave. Even the batman was not immune to the power of cuteness.

After waiting five minutes, Dick decided that it was too boring down there, not to mention chilly. The cave was cold and damp, and his toes were freezing.

"Hmmm... I wonder what this computer's for..." Dick muttered, then cackled eerily. For a six year old boy, he knew a lot about technology in general. So much it was scary.

He looked at the screen that Bruce had left his precious computer open to, aware that as well as having alerts on it for criminal activity and special programs to help crime fighting, it would also control all systems, Batcave included. Which meant that he could turn the heat on.

After hacking the heating and cooling system, the six year old was still bored and thought it would be fun to know more about the criminals themselves. There were plenty of files to read, too.

So when Batman finally got back from 'work', he found his son reading triple-encrypted files about psychopaths and looking at ghastly pictures of gruesome dead, bloody bodies in contorted forms right before bed. To say the least, he was surprised that Dick could even hack triple-encrypted files; that wasn't a skill most teenagers had, let alone six year olds.

"Dick. What. Are. You. Doing." Bruce said, his voice calm and words clipped short. Dick didn't even seem mildly perturbed at his startling ninja appearance, like most people would have.

"I got bored. This stuff is COOL!" the boy exclaimed with over enthusiasm. Again, most children would have run screaming to their parents instead of being all 'wowthisistotallyawesome!'

Bruce sighed, recognizing the signs. His son was not normal, on the intelligence level and perhaps on the mental level as well… but putting that aside, it was way past Dick's bedtime.

"Bedtime, Dick. We'll talk about this tomorrow," Bruce tried to sound stern but failed epically.

"But I don't wanna!" He glared at his father, pouting. Blue eyes stared up at Bruce, sparkling pleadingly at him, and it took all of his willpower to resist the power of cuteness. Thirty more minutes wouldn't hurt...

Bruce sighed, and Dick recognized the signs of defeat.

"Yes!" he crowed, settling back into the chair to read.

"Thirty minutes, then bed," Bruce muttered, beginning to examining evidence from one of his cases.

An hour later, Bruce still hadn't budged from his information, and Dick was staring wide eyed at the computer screen.

Two hours later, Bruce was messing around with the Batmobile, and Dick was tapping away at the keyboard.

Four hours later, the only thing different was the triple-encrypted files opened and the little boy looking at them.

Six hours later, Alfred came down to Dick playing some racing game-mariocart, the butler thought- and Bruce practically nodding off at a microscope.

"Master Dick, what in the world ARE you doing?" Alfred had disapproval clearly stamped across his face in large red letters. "It is way past your bedtime. Come."

And that was the end of it. Alfred's word is law.


	9. Chapter 9

The next morning found Bruce blearily drinking a cup of coffee and reading the paper. He was skimming the words, not really paying attention to the print. He was pondering what to do with the little boy.

It was rather obvious he had been home schooled, because of his circus career and whatnot. Luckily, the school year had not yet started, so there was still time to enroll him.

But what then? It was obvious that the child was not normal. He could hack files that were supposed to be among the most secure in the world. He could perform acrobatic feats no adult would ever want to try. What else, Bruce wondered, could his son do?

"Alfred... What would you think if I started training Dick as my partner?" He called to the butler, who was in the kitchen baking something. Alfred raised his eyebrow.

"Well at least he'll have a place to burn off all his energy." Alfred said, before going back to cooking.

Bruce nodded, satisfied that Alfred agreed with his choice, and began pondering how commissioner Gordon would take the news. Probably with a slight grain of salt.

Secretly, a small blue-eyed boy in the Batcave cheered, having used the cameras all over the mansion to listen in on the supposedly secret conversation.

He had originally come down there out of boredom. Luckily the cameras had been already set up on screen or he might not have heard.  
Boredom did have its uses, he supposed.


	10. Chapter 10

Dick frowned as he looked at the costume Alfred had helped him make. There was something missing, but he couldn't tell what.

After several months of training, Bruce had finally deemed the boy ready to face Gotham's most notorious, but not without precautions. Even despite the kevlar and utility belt, his costume had several tracking devices sewn into it, just in case, as well as a communicator in one of the sleeves. Bruce had even considered adding a tazer (which he actually did add), and a homing batarang which when used would lead Batman to the young boy if he ever got lost or something.

"Alfred, do you think something's missing?" Dick asked, frowning little boyish-ly as he looked at himself in the mirror.

He had his utility belt, the canary yellow cape, shoes...

"I believe you are missing this." Bruce cleared his throat and stepped into the bathroom, holding a small mask. He pressed it gently against Dicks face, smoothing it against skin. It fit perfectly.

He studied the boy. He had decided to call himself Robin, and when asked, he had said "it's a family name." And that was the end of it.

The costume was also reminiscent of before his parents had died. The black skin tight pants and orange shirt were from his days as a circus boy, as were the green sleeves and soft boots. The yellow cape, though, was new.

The yellow letter 'r' stood out in a ring of black, on the right side just below a yellow collar. It stood for Robin and Richard.

"There. Are you ready?" Bruce queried, pulling his cowl up over his head and becoming Batman as Robin nodded enthusiastically.

"Here we go.."


	11. Chapter 11

Robin whooped as he leaned out the batmobile, black mask slightly crooked on his face. It gave the child a carefree look, which was reinforced by his crooked grin and habit of scaring the crap out of criminals then chuckling evilly. He was looking forward to meeting commissioner Gordon for the first time.

Batman left the car locked in an alley and got out his grappling hook while Robin vaulted up the wall of an apartment and onto the roof, using the window ledges and fire escape as handholds. The little boy was really agile.

A whizzing sound heralded the arrival of Batman on the roof of the building as well.

"Remember, they might not react too well to this," Batman cautioned. Robin just shrugged and jumped onto the next rooftop, completely ignoring anything his mentor was saying. It was boring.

Ahead, a bright yellow light shone from the apex of the police headquarters in the darkness of Gotham, and a figure was visible waiting for the two crimefighters.

"Commissioner," Batman greeted Jim Gordon as he landed next to him. The commissioner immediately launched straight into the report, about an illegal drug shipment that had been discovered by detectives but couldn't gather enough information to ace the guys who were using it. Robin went seemingly unnoticed by his mentor's side.

"... And who might this be?" After saying all the boringly important things, James Gordon finally acknowledged Robin's existence.

Batman shrugged, seemingly uncomfortable.

"This is my sid- partner, Robin." Robin glared at Batman for the slip-up. He hated being called a sidekick.

Gordon lifted an eyebrow at that.

"Hope you know what you're doing, Batman, and son, you have a lot to live up to. Good luck." He said, then walked away. The door to the roof slammed shut, leaving the caped crusaders to do their disappearing act without an audience.


	12. Chapter 12

**I'm back! Did ya miss me? Sorry it took me song long to update, but I kinda had a lot of school projects and my imagination went into a coma. So, I finally woke it up and here is the chapter all you people have been awaiting! **

**(cough cough review cough)**

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School. A young boy's worst nightmare, especially one used to spending the day playing. It was even worse for a formerly homeschooled kid, and throw in the fact his parents just died and the media made a circus out of it, well, it might be less obvious to wear a shirt on it that said 'bully me!'

Not that it was Dick's fault. He wished that these people, his fellow students, would accept him already. The bullying was getting old already, and his first week of school wasn't even over. You'd figure first graders were too young to make fun of people.

At recess, the young boy was the first one out of the building, and he headed straight to the oak in a corner of the schoolyard. It was the only place he could ignore them. The meanies, in his terms.

Dick had tried to ignore them, he had tried telling the teacher. But Mrs. Stacy had frowned and told him to stop making things up and stop showing off. Everyone thought that in class he was being a smart alec, whatever that was. He had frowned at that and said that calling people names wasn't nice, and had gotten sent to the principles' office and they had threatened to call his parents, forgetting for a second that his parents were _DEAD_, dead as dirt. And when he burst out crying and ran when the bell rang he could hardly be blamed.

It wasn't fair, he thought, wiping away the tears and leaning back against the tree. Not fair at all.

"Why are you crying?"

Dick jumped. He hadn't heard the girl approaching.

"Go away," he mumbled, and sniffled. Through his watery eyes he could see a girl with reddish brown hair standing.

"My name is Barbara, Barbara Gordon. What's yours?" Undeterred, Barbara smiled and held out her hand to Dick.

"...Richard Grayson, but you can call me Dick," He wiped away the tears and shook her hand, beginning to think that the girl wasn't that bad.

Barbara giggled. "I like Richard better."


	13. Chapter 13

Batman wasn't happy. Not happy at all. It wasn't the fact that Robin had 'forgotten' to do his homework, or that he had disobeyed orders during patrol (ok so maybe that DID have something to do with his mood, the boy could have gotten hurt).

No, although all his problems seemed to focus around his son. The Justice League had begun to question Batman on the rumors of his sidekick that were beginning to travel around, and he knew that if the rumors were confirmed they would veto the idea. If any of them were detectives worth their salt, then they would have been suspicious before; he had been neglecting his league duties for a while, and the news had been all over his adopted son. It was lucky that they weren't.

However, he did not want the League investigating. Not even a very incognito 'big blue boy scout'. ESPECIALLY not the 'big blue boy scout'.

Which explained why it HAD to be Superman that they sent to investigate.

"Mr. Wayne, there's a reporter here to see you. He isn't scheduled, though." His secretary poked her head in to Bruce's office, fluttering her eyelashes in a way that was probably supposed to be attractive, but really only made him want to puke.

"Let him in," Bruce muttered. He continued typing as a certain Clark Kent made his way into the room.

"Hey, Bruce. Long time no see," The reporter said, attempting not to get on the irate business mans' bad side. Although interrupting him at work probably wasn't the best way not to.

"What do you want, Kent?" He growled, getting right to the point.. He hated it when people beat around the bush.

All pretenses of a smile dropped off Clark's face.

"We need to talk, about the rumors; people are saying you have a...a _sidekick_." He scrunched up his nose at the thought of a child doing what he thought of as adult hero work.

"Sometimes rumors are just that: rumors." Bruce's expression was completely unreadable as Clark sighed with relief.

"Well then, I might as well get down to the other reason I'm here. The Daily Planet needs an interview about your adopted son."

"..."

"Good. Lets go somewhere else, though." Clark took the silence as a yes.

Bruce sighed and got up heavily. There was no avoiding it, he thought, as he saved what he was working on and turned the computer off.

"Ok, but first I have to pick Richard up from school," Bruce said. If Clark was going to interrogate him about his son, he might as well actually meet the child.


	14. Chapter 14

**Hi people of the earth and beyond! Thank you Guest reviewer Chris, for reviewing! :) **

**...I believe I forgot to mention that I PM my thanks to people who review, and I thank guests up before every story, because I cannot PM them. If I haven't thanked you for reviewing yet, Thanks! **

**Enjoy. I will try to update more often, seeing as schools almost over and all; but I might not have wifi half the summer. Any Ideas, hints, words of wisdom, review or PM me. **

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Dick officially decided that he was glad he didn't ride the bus home. As much fun as it had seemed at first, now after Barbara had explained what it was like, he pictured it being exactly like school was, except he would be on a moving object and wouldn't be learning. Meaning it would be less fun.

The boy waited patiently out at car pickup with Barbara, discussing whether gymnastics or acrobatics was better. Barbara thought gymnastics, but she was biased, like Dick, towards her preferred sport.

"We'll just agree to disagree," Barbara decided. Dick offered her his hand.

"Shake on it?" He questioned, and they did, before dissolving into laughter at each others serious faces.

"Maybe you could come over sometime," He offered, smiling cheerfully. Barbara frowned.

"If Dad let's me. He's really overprotective after..." She trailed off. Dick shrugged.

"It's ok, Bruce can be like that too sometimes."

"Like what?" A voice called. Bruce leaned out the window of the black shiny and probably expensive sports car. Dick waved.

"See ya tomorrow!" He said to his new friend, then grabbed the superman backpack next to him and dashed to the car.

"What am I like sometimes?" Bruce asked again, smiling slightly.

"Nothing," Dick said. "I'm hungry." He opened the door and crawled into the seat, struggling a bit with his seat belt.

"Dick, this is Clark Kent." Bruce spit out. Dick just waved.

"Hi! Whats your favorite color? Mines green!" He said brightly. The little kids' grin was contagious, and both adults were soon smirking. "-and I think Superman is cool, but Batman is cooler...No offense," he added as an afterthought. The conversation carried them all the way to the Manor, where Alfred was sweeping the garage clean of leaves.

Clark shot Bruce the 'look' out of the corner of his eye. The boy said things that weren't quite… he couldn't put his finger on it, but he felt like Dick was almost making fun of him.

"Hi, Alfred! We made pots today in art!" The kid bounced out of the car and showed his lopsided creation to the butler.

"Very nice, master Dick. Shall we put it on the coffee table?" Suggested Alfred. Dick's smile became even wider until it almost popped off his face, eyes shining excitedly.

"Yes!" He rushed inside, forgetting his backpack.

Bruce chuckled, letting himself forget the reporter for a minute and grabbing Dick's backpack for him.

"I didn't know you were allowed to laugh," Clark commented, before mentally squeezing a hand over his mouth. Bruce turned his head slightly, rolling his eyes so that the man could see their dark depths, rimmed with pure malice...

The man of steel shivered, and the moment passed. When Alfred and Dick walked back in, both were talking like nothing had happened; about business and newspapers and new criminals that had popped up in Metropolis and Gotham.

But on the inside, the 'Bat' in Batman had Superman shaking in his shining leather shoes.

And on the inside, Batman and Robin though it was _HILARIOUS. _

Oh, yes, the pair would have a good laugh about it later.

Maybe Alfred would join them.


End file.
